


Ghosts of the Past

by mariana_oconnor



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Gen, Hacker Tony Stark, Snippet of a longer fic I didn't have time to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana_oconnor/pseuds/mariana_oconnor
Summary: Tony doesn't know why he didn't see this coming. Looking back it seems inevitable that they would end up going after Stane, that's what their little group does isn't it? They pick up where the law leaves off, and Obadiah Stane is rotten to his core. There's just one problem, no one knows that Tony Edwards is actually Tony Stark, presumed dead two decades ago.For the Tony Stark Bingo Square T4, which was a panel from the Winter Soldier comics of Tony working on Bucky's arm.





	Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a really long fic, but I didn't have time to do it justice, so here. Have a short fic, full of exposition, setting up a possible Leverage Fusion AU that would either end up WinterIron or Stuckony. I wish I'd had time to do it, but there's no way I could have written this in less than 50k words. But I think this snippet stands alone well enough for the time being.

Tony is resolutely not thinking about a lot of things right now. Well, he’s trying not to think about a lot of things right now, his brain isn’t necessarily getting with the programme on that. But he’s got a technical marvel opened up in front of him and a hot shirtless guy attached to it, so he’s doing better at the ‘distracting himself’ strategy than he could be.

“You alright?” Bucky asks. He sounds terse, but then he always does. Tony’s been running with this crew long enough now that he’s pretty sure Bucky’s not trying to be aggressive, so he gives him a bright, sharp grin, as free and easy as he can.

“Sure I am, Buckmeister,” he says, tilting himself over to just before the tipping point to grab another tool from the table. He should have set it up closer, but it’s too late now. Of course, his mouth works on automatic, like always. His brain is too distracted with circuitry and hardware to pay attention to his tongue. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Not sure,” Bucky admits, and when Tony risks a quick glance up at his face, his eyebrows are drawn together with a little crease of a frown between them. “Ever since Steve gave the briefing, you’ve been… not yourself.”

“Think you might be confusing me with Tasha,” Tony says, keeping his tone light. “I’m the hacker, remember, she’s the woman with a thousand faces.”

“I know you’re not Tasha,” Bucky tells him. He pauses, giving Tony an unimpressed sort of a look. “She’s better at distraction, for starters. You’re freaking out about something. Something that has to do with this job.” Tony scowls at the circuitry he’s looking at, wishing once again that he could go back to the start of the week, when none of this was happening.

“I have a life outside of work, you know,” Tony says. It’s mostly a lie. Bucky probably knows that, he always seems to know more than he lets on, just quietly watches until the time comes not to be quiet. “I could be worrying about anything.”

“So you are worried,” Bucky grins and Tony can’t quite drag his eyes away.

The past few years Tony has spent as part of this rag-tag group of criminals turned vigilantes has been an adventure. He’s had more fun than he’d ever had when he was firmly on the criminal side of that equation. He’s felt better about himself. He’s been doing something positive. And hovering in the back of his head, there’s been this idea that one day he’d go back.

“So. What’s got Tony Edwards, Hacker extraordinaire, so worried?” Bucky asks. And unknowingly, Bucky’s put his finger right on the problem.

They’d all sat through the briefing: Stane International, one of the country’s most successful weapons manufacturers. It was A Shining Example of American Industry, Supporting Our Troops. - the whole spiel. And then... the other stuff, the stuff that Tony has known for years, but never been in a position to act on, or maybe he’s just never been willing to act on it - too scared, to selfish. It’s a story that starts with an overly ambitious vice president, continues with a tragic car accident and a missing child, travels through the murky back alleys of backroom deals and barefaced treason, and ends here, today - although Tony’s the only one who knows the twist at the end.

The Missing Stark Heir is an urban legend, these days. Most people think he’s buried somewhere out in the woods where his parents’ car was found. There are at least twenty conspiracy sites about the tale that Tony can name off the top of his head. He visits them from time to time, stirs them up a bit when he’s feeling drunk and pissy - something that’s been happening a lot less often since the team got together.

But the point is, that everyone’s heard of the Missing Stark Heir. Everyone with half an ounce of common sense knows he’s dead.

Apart from those messed up, crazy dreams of taking back his birthright and shooting Stane through the head, Tony’s always thought that it was over. He’s happy here. He’s got the team. There’s Clint, who’s a little shit, but who could break into the pentagon wearing nothing but his underwear, and Natasha, who’s like an overprotective big sister after you get through some of the layers of identity she buries herself in. There’s Steve, who gives Tony a reason to look at himself in the mirror. And there’s Bucky, who’s smarter than he ever gets credit for and is good for so much more than breaking skulls.

It’s a busted, broken up little family, and it shouldn’t work, but it does, and Tony had finally found his purpose. He’d found people to share it with. He’d found people to trust.

Now it’s going to crumble into nothing.

The worst thing is: he should have seen this coming. Looking back, it seems ridiculous he didn’t. They go after bad guys, rich people who screw over the little guy; that’s what they do, and Obadiah Stane is the embodiment of everything they’re fightig. Of course one day they’d end up at Stane’s door. Of course.

Tony’s been silent for too long. He realises that the smile has fallen from his face and that Bucky is saying something, but he’s been too lost in his own thoughts to follow him.

“You know something about Stane that we should know?” Bucky asks, his voice low and cautious. Tony keeps his bitter laughter internal, forcing himself to concentrate on not short-circuiting Bucky’s prosthetic. He should have known. This was never about concern; this is fact-finding. It’s practically textbook, too: get Tony somewhere comfortable - his workshop, up to his arms in tech - appear concerned about him, then ask him questions until he cracks. Natasha would be proud. She’s probably been giving Bucky lessons.

“Not a thing, Frosty,” Tony tells him. It’s almost true. He was five years old when Stane had his parents murdered, the things he remembers are practically useless. He’s been keeping tabs, though. Steve is going to ask him to get into Stane International’s computer system, and Tony’s going to make a show about it, but he’s been lurking in there for years. He’s got whole servers full of the evidence they need, he’s just never brought himself to do anything about it. It’s always been someone else’s problem.

Maybe the fact that his name is Tony Stark might be… tangentially relevant. But he’s been a criminal way longer than he was ever Howard Stark’s heir. He’s never going to reclaim that throne, and no one would recognise him now. That much is clear.

“Hm,” Bucky says, still watching Tony with that little frown on his face. It’s disconcertingly like he’s figuring him out. Tony has to force himself not to shift under that gaze. “You know you can talk to us, right? Whatever’s going on with you, you can talk to me - or Steve.”

“Got it, Buckaroo,” Tony finishes sliding the panels of his arm back into place an scoots his chair back. “And you can come to me whenever you need lasers in this. I mean, proper, full on lasers. Maybe a rocket launcher...”

Bucky reaches out and for a second Tony’s heart lurches as he thinks the hand is going to cup his face, but it rests on his shoulder instead, solid and heavy, making Tony sag underneath it a bit.

“I know you and Steve haven’t had the best history,” Bucky says slowly, and Tony makes a face. “But he does care.”

“I know,” Tony agrees, because he does. Steve has a general, base level of caring about everything. It’s just what he does, that’s why they’re all here: because Steve cares. And when Steve cares about things, it has a way of making other people care.

Bucky sighs and swings himself up from the table, flexing his metal arm in a highly sexy display of cutting-edge tech, and he nods to Tony before heading out of the room, mission complete.

“I’m screwed,” Tony says to the room.

  
“Signs indicate that is not the case,” JARVIS says from the wall speaker. “If I might, perhaps, offer some advice.”

Tony rolls his chair back to the desk where he keeps his keyboard.

“Hit me, J.”

“I do not see what use subterfuge has at this point,” JARVIS tells him, too smart for his own good, as usual. “Logic suggests that continuing to perpetuate the fiction is merely delaying the inevitable and perhaps setting yourself and your companions up for further complications.”

It is ironic that JARVIS is the one telling him to reveal his secret when it had been his namesake who made Tony swear to keep it.

“I’ve got one rule, J.”

“You have had me record at least seventy rules that you have stated over the years since my creation,” JARVIS replies. Tony waves him off.

“I’ve got one rule I don’t break,” Tony says. “Just the one… I made a promise.”

Five years old, scared and shaken, with Jarvis crouching in front of him, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

_ “Be brave, Master Anthony,” _ he had said.  _ “And remember, no one must ever know who you truly are. Tell no one. Promise me.” _

And Tony had promised as a one-eyed man in a long black coat had bundled him into a car. He’d twisted around in his seat to look out the back window of that car until Jarvis had disappeared into the distance.

He’d never see him again. And he’d never broken that promise.

“Sir, if you were to tell-”

“No,” Tony says. “Show me the Stane International files, J. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Certainly, sir. Whatever you say. I’m sure you know best.”


End file.
